


The Long Game. A Life is Strange Sequel.

by LastRitex



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastRitex/pseuds/LastRitex
Summary: Chloe and Max made the ultimate sacrifice to save Arcadia Bay from the storm. So why does the girl with the camera still find herself standing next to the crumbling lighthouse as the end draws close? Was it all for nothing? She has one last picture to find out.Join Max as she makes one last jump through time to save Arcadia Bay, the one who gave everything for it, and maybe, just maybe, a death she never thought it possible to prevent.





	1. Time Is Free, But It's Priceless.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me be very clear. This is a story in utero. It's barely even visible inside my head. I am writing very much by the seat of my pants... thus despite my best efforts, this fan fiction may crash and burn in my attempts to stay canon. 
> 
> But if you're along for the ride, I sincerely hope you enjoy what I have in store. :)

**October 10th, 2013.**

Max watched the butterfly take off from the oak coffin; the body of her partner in time contained within.

She chased its iridescent blue wings as they swayed skyward with the breeze until the warm light from the sun blinded her view of the beautiful creature.

Raising an arm up to shield teary eyes, she searched desperately for another glimpse, but it left her wanting. It had departed, and for good as best as she could tell, taking with it the fleeting feeling of comfort its presence had brought her.

Max lowered her bare forearm back down to her side as the sorrow returned, permeating back through the permanently damaged muscle behind her ribcage.

It was a pain that found her once again willing for a way to return to the bathroom at Blackwell. Something she had longed for a thousand time over in the preceeding four days as the guilt of being unable to save everyone ate away at her.

Max grabbed her wrist instinctively, as she did whenever she felt uncomfortable. Though this time the pressure on her skin resulted in her flinching.

It had been rubbed raw this week, and the wound had been noticeable after the first day of constant contact. Warren had been the only one to do so however, and had taken to keeping watch on her habit, resolving to stop her doing it at any opportunity.

Today was no different as she felt him reach across silently and take her hand in his as they both stood next to one another, with Max only half listening to the balding priest trying to competently eulogize her best friend over the top of Joyce's uncontrollable tears.

Because the fact was, nothing he could say would ever come close. Not to her truth. _Their truth._ He could never tell of Chloe's sacrifice. For he simply would never know. Like countless others in Arcadia Bay, he would just benefit to go on to lead a full life.

One of endless possibilities.

Completely ignorant to the blue haired girl inside the casket, and the only shitty ones she'd been faced with.

Max felt heat rise in her cheeks at such a debilitating thought and pulled her hand from Warrens without looking in his direction. He initially resisted slightly but relented in continued silence when she tried again.

She knew he was just trying to help, but there in lay the problem. There was no helping her. The butterfly had given her a moment of peace, but Max knew that even if it had stayed forever, the unrest would eventually return.

Because as ethereal as it was, it could never match the weightlessness that Chloe Price had made her feel over that week. She was the only person Max wanted a lifetime with.

She would now be the only person Max would spend a lifetime without. It was done now. Time wanted Chloe dead, it had made that crystal. 

She'd torn up the last opportunity she would ever have to right fates wrong after her final jump, and letting the gun go off in Nathans hand had rendered her completely powerless.

A sign that only reinforced the notion that stopping the act in the first place had been the trigger, sending time crazy and creating the storm. 

Tomorrows clear skies up by the lighthouse would be proof of that. And then it would be Max's turn to flirt with insanity. 

Though questioning why she had been given the ability at all was enough to have her well on her way. 

_One existential crisis at a time, Max,_ she thought batting away the unrest starting another assault on her mind.

These days she took on anxiety like water on a bullet ridden boat, and knew she needed something to plug up the holes fast. She entertained the idea of paying Frank a visit later... 

Max figured he'd either hook her up or set Pompidou on her for turning up at his R.V uninvited. Strangely she found herself infinitely more drawn to the latter outcome.

*

"So, that was... heavy?" Warren said, breaking the silence as he and Max made their way back through the cemetary gates, leaving Joyce to have a final moment of privacy with her daughter before she was lowered into the earth for good.

"That's one word for it." Max replied, noting his decision to evade confronting her over snatching her hand away from him. She had to admit she was glad for it. 

Trying to surpress what felt like an ever imminent outpouring of grief had her inadvertently poised to bite the head off anyone unfortunate enough to say the wrong thing. 

She'd so far kept the water works to a minimum, but every step she took from Chloe's body was met with increased pressure on the bridge of her nose.

Warren suspended his reply for a few moments, and though her eyes were trained firmly on the ground, Max could feel his bore into her. 

He did this often in his never ending quest to giver her whatever he thought she wanted. "D- do you want a hug?" _A swing and a miss, Warren._

"I'll be fine." She lied. Max lifted her head then and directed his attention to the ever shrinking figures of the other Blackwell attendees up ahead. "You should catch up to the others."

Warren slipped his hands deep into the pockets of his suit and rolled the bottom of his shoe over the stones scattering the floor. "I- don't think you should be alone right now." He said. It was time for a convincing act from Max.

"Why? I'm fine." She said again, choking out the words. "We were friends as kids. But... I hadn't seen her in five years."

"Then why do I feel like you're more broken up about this than anyone?" Warren asked in a moment of surprising intuitiveness. _Because it was the truth._ Max thought as she tried to think of a way to answer him.

She found herself saved the trouble however as she heard Warren's phone buzz in his pocket. She waited as he removed it to read the message, her hand slowly edging back toward the wound on her wrist as she did so.

Warren stopped the act by handing her his phone to read the message. It was from Justin and appeared to be more of a Blackwell wide announcement than a message for he himself, owing to the reason why he didn't simply speak to Warren at the funeral.

_Toke for Price?_  
_Room 105 tonight._  
_BYOB._

It said simply.

"You gonna be there?" Warren asked, tentatively. Max really had no intentions to, but she also knew he would only turn up outside her dorm room to give her company she didn't want if she refused to reply in the affirmative.

"I guess so..."

"Okay. Should be a good send off for those who couldn't make it today." He said, seemingly happy with Maxs agreeable reply.

"Yeah. Look, you go on. Joyce and David are my ride anyway. I have to go back to their place... Joyce said I could have something to remember her by." Max said, truthfully this time.

Warren still hesitated for a moment after being given his marching orders. He slipped his phone back inside his suit pocket and nodded. "Text you later? Beforehand?" He asked for confirmation.

"Yeah, sure thing." Max replied, all the while committing to a decision to ignore any and all electronic communication from him for the remainder of the day.

He smiled, and though Max knew he wanted to give her a parting hug, he turned, leaving her without one, taking off to catch up with one of the stragglers.

Max backed up and leaned against the fencing next to the cemetary gates, the hem of her dress fluttering up off her knee as she watched off a few hundred feet to Joyce and David standing beside Chloe's coffin as it slowly descended.

Max found herself resisting the urge to chase back to be by her side. A part of her even wished rather morbidly to join Chloe in her big sleep. 

She was trying to be happy as much as her decision haunted her. She had told herself over and over that this was what Chloe had chosen. She had convinced Max it was the right thing to do...

But it was futile. No matter the excuses, she'd had the power. She had the picture. Max _could_ have defied time, there would be consequences but at least they would have faced them together. 

_Lived together._

Instead of where she was now. Drifting through, moment to moment with wouldbe-ghosts.


	2. Quiet Noise.

*

The ride back to 44 Cedar was... difficult, as were most interactions Max had found herself in since she'd arrived back for the last time.

Joyce, as strong as she was, was trying to soldier on through like she hadn't just buried her only daughter, making strained conversation with Max about how she was surprised the dress she'd worn for Williams funeral still fit her.

The actual soldier was silent. His hands white knuckling the steering wheel as his wife went on. Max almost wished Joyce would follow Davids lead, but knew she was just coping the best way she could.

One thing that hadn't changed in all the time Max had known her. Joyce had always got by on very little. But then she always had a reason to do so. 

That reason was gone now. And it would change her life for the worse, something Max had already witnessed.

Even as she sat there in the backseat of Davids car, she couldn't help but think of those changes.

How much darker first contact had been with everyone, not least with the two sitting up front.

The first time she had met David, it had been a confrontation over Max still being inside the school after she'd set off the fire alarm to spook Nathan. Not the best foot to get off on.

And yet it was infinitely more desirable to the one she would now live with. Having not intervened, the shot had rang out and drawn David instead.

Thankfully it had sent the students fleeing the building. Max hadn't wanted a crowd clamoring for a view of her best friend laid out like that... 

David had burst into the bathroom, to find out first hand of his step daughters demise, and coming face to face with the person who had caused it.

The reaction had been as visceral as she'd witnessed in the Dark Room.

And so instead of a telling off, Max had been faced with the task of trying to wrestle David away from beating Nathan to a pulp. Max didn't blame him, but as an enforcer of the law, a revenge killing would cripple Madsen for the rest of his life. 

Unfortunately with the size difference and David blinded by a fit of rage, it had taken more than a few minutes to do so, resulting in large-scale bruises across Nathans body, something that Sean Prescott had jumped on straight away.

David had been placed on unpaid leave, effective immediately. Leaving Joyce again the sole breadwinner. But she too, was afforded leave on account of her daughters death. Again, unpaid.

Max had not been there when Joyce found out about her daughter. 

David had been the one to shatter her world instead. Though it still made their first reintroduction one of deep regret and distress, as oppose to free breakfast at the Two Whales.

The car groaned then, pulling Max out of her head. "Ah, come on..." she heard David mutter under his breath, more of a willing the car on than anything.

"We're out of gas?" Joyce asked for confirmation. Max leaned slightly to see for herself, sure enough the tank said empty.

"We'll make it home, don't worry." David answered with a sigh. He and Max caught each others eyes in the rear view mirror. They were weary.

If Chloe hadn't known about Davids heroics in the Dark Room she would have probably laughed at her ability to make his life difficult even in death. 

Though a simple look the other way to Joyce stamped out that notion. The car coughed and spluttered the rest of the way, coming to a stop by the sidewalk only a few houses off from the Madsen household. Close enough, for now.

"I wish you could have been back here under different circumstances, Max." Joyce started as David exited his side to round his wifes door. "I have so many happy memories of the two of you here. The kind that'll make it a little easier to carry on living inside those walls."

"Me too, Joyce. I'm so sorry." Max said remorsefully as David held out his hand to help her from the car. 

"Don't be, Max. There was nothing you could have done. I just wish Chloe had known you were back... Maybe having you in her life could have prevented..." She trailed off. But Max knew it wouldn't have prevented anything.

Chloe had died no less than six times under her watch. No amount of nostalgia would have ever spared her. Max gave a half hearted nod as David led Joyce toward the house, cradling her shoulders like she was made of sugar glass.

Max wished she could still know that feeling. The safety and... intense affection she'd gotten whenever she'd woken from one of her blackouts in Chloe's arms. It had escaped her at the time. But looking back, it had been far beyond friendship. 

And she should have seen it. Should have felt the electricity beneath the water of the pool that night. Maybe then she would have known to taste Chloe's lips even a split second longer the morning after. 

Max had seen the dare far more innocently than she now realised it had been. Chloe wanted Max. And she'd been too slow to realise she wanted her too. Now she could tell it to her grave.

Max crossed the treshold to hear the sound of a kettle on its way to boiling and David with his head bowed at the kitchen counter, out of view of Joyce sitting in the living room.

It was a moment Max knew she wasn't supposed to intrude on so she sped by to join Joyce, hovering at her shoulder until she was given the blessing to head up to Chloe's room to face another brickwall of emotions.

Though Joyce didn't appear to notice her as she sat there lost in thought. It was only when David came through with one steaming mug in hand did she return to herself.

"Oh Max, I'm sorry. You can head up there whenever you like. Chloe's still in the same room, though it's changed a little since you last saw it." She started. "I know from the few times I was able to actually gain access to gather dirty laundry that there will be no shortage of memories for you to find of you both."

"Thank you, Joyce." Max replied.

"That's no problem, you take as long as you like up there, okay? Just do me a favour before you leave?" Joyce asked, cupping her mug to test the heat of the coffee inside.

"Anything"

"Come and say goodbye? I've missed you around here over the years, almost as much as Chloe had. Just... know you're still welcome here, okay? Don't be a stranger is what I'm saying..." Joyce said, bringing the cup up to her lips now, satisfied with the temperature.

"I- I won't. Be a stranger." Max replied for clarification. Joyce smiled in return as Max started toward the staircase. 

She stopped momentarily by the kitchen doorway however as David called from inside. "You drink coffee, Max?" He asked gruffly, already reaching into one of the cupboards

"I do... thank you, uh, Mr Madsen." She replied, feeling it weird having to go back to calling David this until he gave her the go ahead to address him otherwise. He didn't answer as he poured one out, only speaking after he'd handed her it.

"It's hot." He said, stating the obvious. "Now, do you think you could help me with the car after you're done?"

"Uhm, I don't know anything about cars, Mr Madsen..." Max answered honestly. She doubted she'd even be able to work out which way to turn the ignition.

"I just need help rolling it up the driveway. Now, I know it won't be going anywhere without gas, but for my own peace of mind I'd much prefer it where I can see it." He said with finality.

"Okay, I guess so." Max agreed, as much as she didn't want to be doing anything but cocooning herself in Chloe's room for the remainder of the day.

*

Max reached the top of the stairs, an unbalance having crept up on her with each step. She took a deep breath in to ready herself as she twisted the door knob to Chloe's room.

But it didn't do much to stop the tears from flowing as the door clicked shut behind her. After four days of fronting up in the face of Chloe's death and not a second to herself to grieve alone thanks almost solely to Warren, Max was well and truly spent.

She slid down to the floor, her back against the door, the tears running down her cheeks and onto her knees as she pulled them up to her chest, her dress slipping up her thigh.

Joyce had told her to take as long as she liked. But Max doubted the forever she wanted would be an option. To crawl into Chloe's bed and never leave. Here she was everywhere. 

Her scent would be in the clothes in her drawers. The songs that reminded Max of the two of them would be in her CD player. Max could breathe the girl she loved here. 

She allowed herself to keep on with the cry as she pulled herself to her feet, looking around it was exactly as she remembered it. 

The mess across her wooden floor, the posters of half naked women across the walls. And Rachel Ambers melancholy stare looking back at Max from the pile of missing posters on the desk. 

Her stomach turned at the memory of finding her body, decayed and discarded by the twisted Mark Jefferson, sitting now in a different kind of dark room, one with bars and not much else. Awaiting trail for his depraved crimes.

Max and Chloe had stopped a killer. Two killers. A victory if ever there was one. And yet what it had taken to achieve it was all so fucked - the fact Max would trade it, and by extension the lives she'd no doubt spared from a future in the Dark Room was even moreso.

She scrunched her eyes up and pressed her palm to her forehead for thinking so selfishly. But as she crawled onto Chloe's bedsheets, the thoughts only intensified against her will.

They had become so strong since entering the room that Max pushed her face into Chloe's pillow trying to escape them, though as she did so, the faint smell of Weed had her pulling back. She never did find out when Chloe started doing that stuff.

Max surmised it was likely not too long after the death of her father. She knew now only too well how the death of a loved one could throw someone toward drugs to escape.

Though despite admitting to doing so to cover for Chloe in front of David, Max had never so much as put a spliff between her fingers. And as much as she wanted to now (Chloe surely had some lying around) she would not do so under Joyce's roof.

Max needed something stronger anyway. She wasn't sure if Frank dealt in the kind of thing she was after but she had to try regardless. It was peace or sleep. 

Though she figured the former would only be achieved now via the latter, and judging by her inability to rest at all over the past four days, it would be a long time before she got any.

Max pulled her funeral wear up off her head with the intention of finding one of Chloe's t-shirts to mope around in. She was in the middle of balling it up to launch across the room when her cell buzzed beside her.

Two messages. Both from Justin again. The first had been an add on to the Blackwell wide text, which clarified the earlier announcement. It read -

_And No! B.O.B does not stand for Bring Your Own BEER. Naming no names.... Juliet ;) And Bong is not the answer either Trevor! But I am a man who rewards ingenuity. Plus its your dorm man, so hit that... BUD people. BUD. But also, bring beer..._

It barely fell short of forcing a smile from Max. She checked the second text on the edge of the bed as she grasped thin air in the search for one of Chloe's drawers. This one was addressed directly to her and far less humorous.

_Hey, Max_  
_So we need tonight soundtracked. Chloe-heavy. And I hear you two used to be tight? I have Firewalk locked but it'd be awesome if you could hook us up with a playlist? Get back to me._

__

__

She tapped out a quick reply, despite holding the steadfast decision not to attend -

_I can do that._  
_At her place now. Give me ten.  
_

__

Throwing the cell back on the bed for a minute she picked up the first tee she saw as the drawer opened, she hugged it against her before putting it on, white with a raven emblazened on the chest.

Luckily with the height difference they'd had it fell a little longer on Max, covering her modesty just enough. She rubbed more tears away as they came, her eyes starting to feel hot from the friction.

Max then moved over to the other side of Chloe's bed to fulfill Justins request before she could rest inside her scent for as long as she was left to.

She popped open her small metal box and pulled out the CD, along with the picture of Rachel Amber and Chloe folded over inside. 

She hoped that wherever they were, they at least could be there together, despite Max's burning feelings. She flipped the picture over so only Chloe was staring back at her, middle finger and all.

Despite this being Chloe's day to day reaction to most things, Max could see she was happy. The flash had captured the fire in her eyes, though the angst it was usually borne from was nowhere to be found.

She caressed her thumb over it until she felt another jab in the heart and not having any pockets she slid the base of it into the waistband of her underwear before sitting down at Chloe's laptop.

Max picked up her phone again as she pushed the CD into the drive and waited for the song list to load up. It had a total of twenty tracks. She typed them all down in her response.

_To get you started -_

_Unamerican, Dead Sara_  
Black Hole in My Mind, The Lillingtons  
Age of Consent, Cayetona (New Order)  
Feeling OK, Best Coast  
Dirty Cigarettes, Beach Slang  
Rebel Girl, Bikini Kill  
Boring By The Sea, Blood Red Shoes  
Bout Time, Bones Owen  
Mono, Courtney Love  
hometown, Cleopatrick 

_Girls, Beatrice Eli_  
Heavens Got A Backdoor, Dead Sara  
Brain Food, Milk Teeth  
Solara, The Smashing Pumpkins  
Crowbar, Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes  
Play, Marmozets  
Take Back the Power, The Interrupters  
(Lost Another) Piece of My World, Turnstile  
Ribs, Lorde...  
Recite Remorse, Waxahatachee 

Then she paused, knowing a reply was imminent. Justins thanks came sure enough, less than a minute later but Max gave no further acknowledgement in favour of throwing herself between the covers of the bed.

She searched the final song on the CD,  and pushed play after putting in a pair of earphones to block out the background noise reaching through Chloe's open window.

It was as close to her as she would ever be able to feel again. Her scent and sound now surrounded her, and it was comforting and painful in tandem. Max knew that one day the conflict inside could only send her insane.

She hugged herself and on her side she once again pulled her knees up, she figured she must have looked so pitiful, but like with most things now, she didn't care.

Even with those thoughts rushing her head, knowing that David was waiting on her help, knowing that he or Joyce would eventually come knocking to find her in their daughters bed, wearing her clothes, Max couldn't help but drift.

It had been four days, and the sensation was strange, coming so easily now that she was striving to be one with another soul. She felt the blurring of time, the seconds between seeing the light through Chloe's window growing with each blink until...

She slipped off, for the first time since the day she died.


End file.
